


Dangers of Gossip

by Tarvok



Series: Dailies With Sherlock Holmes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asperger's Sherlock, Autism symptoms, Character Study, Gen, POV Mrs. Hudson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarvok/pseuds/Tarvok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you need to be careful of what you say. Something completely unrelated to a person can still hurt them in subtle ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dangers of Gossip

By Tarvok

 

I'm trying to catch up on the wash and other chores I've got lined up today. I'm on the dishes now, while I wait for Sherlock's pants and socks to finish. There've been noises coming from upstairs all morning, and I'm just about to head up there and see what all the commotion is, when I hear him shouting for me.

“Mrs. Hudson!”

“Coming, Dear!” I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and make my way up to his sitting room. I poke my head through the open door, “What is it, Sherlock?”

“Where is it? Where did you put it?” He's bouncing about the room.

“Where is what, Sherlock? I haven't been up here all week.”

“The blue sock! I need it for a case.”

“Oh! It's in the wash-” I pause as he turns to face me, murderous.

“What!? You put evidence in the _wash_!?”

“How was I supposed to know it was evidence? There were socks and... dirty pants all over the place! It was starting to smell, Sherlock. I'll get the sock for you just as soon as it's finished washing.”

“That isn't good enough!” He throws his arms out and his right hand makes contact with the desk. “Ah-!” He's got ahold of it, his anger suddenly gone, and I come forward.

“Oh look what you did. Let me see... Oh, that'll need some ice.” I go downstairs to get the ice, as I'm not checking in that refrigerator of his. No way. Not after the fingers. Once I've got some wrapped in a towel, I head back upstairs. He's sitting on the sofa, his right hand cradled in his left, rocking back and forth. It makes my chest hurt to see it. This wouldn't have happened had John been here.

“Here you are, Dear. Some ice ought to fix you up, good as new.”

“I don't want it, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Sherlock, you'll get a nasty bruise as it is, and don't you want to be able to play your violin?”

It's quiet, the only sounds are the crinkling of the sandwich bag the ice is in underneath the towel, and his heavy breathing. I'm reminded of what it was like before John moved in.

He must've had one of these... fits of his once a week. Now he has them nearly every day. I don't know what to do now, really, so I go over to him and take his hand in my own and turn it around to place the ice on it. He hisses and stares hard at the floor, but doesn't move away.

“Am I... really _that_ difficult to live with?” He says it in a small voice that I barely hear.

“Whatever do you mean, Sweetheart? You just need some help now and again, that's all.”

He lets out a harsh-sounding laugh. “I bet you get all sorts of gossip from me.” His voice is hard and his eyes are cold as they bore into me.

“What? I'll have you know I would do _no_ such thing. Why ever would you think that?”

“Sorry.” He won't look at me now. He wasn't like that before. He never really bothered with it then. I don't know that I'm happy about it.

“For what, Dear?” When he doesn't answer, I continue, “Sherlock, it's all right. You just keep doing your thing, okay? You help a lot of people! Put bad men behind bars where they belong. I'd think you deserve a bit of understanding, don't you?” I smile reassuringly, though I doubt he sees it.

“... Maybe.” He's taken hold of the bag of ice now, and he stands and walks toward his bedroom. I hear the door close silently, and I let up a silent prayer that he'll come to his senses and find himself again. Soon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Sherlock? I'm finished shopping! I bought biscuits. Those little chocolate digestives you like so much.” I sit the shopping down and then head up the stairs with the box of biscuits to find him.

He's sitting at his desk, typing away. I stand in the open doorway and elect to just watch him at it. He seems better than yesterday, but I can see his right hand is wrapped in a gauze.

“Are you just going to stand there, Mrs. Hudson, or do we get tea to go with?”

“Oh, _you_.” I make us some tea and he joins me in one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace.

“So, how was shopping?” Sherlock's carefully sipping his tea and not looking at me.

“Oh well, it was all right. Mrs. Turner, from down the street, she was there with one of her... 'married ones'...”

“Oh?”

“Yes! And she...” I stop mid-sentence at his tone. There's bags under his eyes and he hasn't changed his clothes from last night. “Well, she's doing all right,” I finish instead.

He looks up at me and smiles. “That's good, Mrs. Hudson. That's good.”

“Would you like another biscuit, Sherlock? I'm going to go put the food away, and I'll be up to make dinner.”

“That would be lovely.”

 


End file.
